Merry and Bright
by lks358
Summary: Post-Nightingale. Erik has a particularly special gift for Christine this Christmas. E/C, oneshot.


**Hi, friends! I hope you all are having a lovely holiday season. I come bearing Christmas fluff, set after the end of Nightingale. I also have a brand new story that I will begin sharing soon, so stay tuned for that. Enjoy!**

* * *

It had only been a week since he'd last woken up with Christine by his side, but feeling her warmth beside him now as he drifted awake settled something deep within Erik. This was as it should be.

He was careful not to jostle her when he rolled over to look at her; her flight had gotten in late last night, and that on top of the intense rehearsal schedule had left her exhausted. She had made him promise not to let her sleep too late—they still had to make the drive down to Mrs. Giry's and she wanted to have the better part of the day there—but he didn't want to wake her too early. They'd be staying up late tonight to sit by the Christmas tree, just as they did every year. Erik's heart sped a little at the thought and he allowed himself to indulge in it only for another moment. Christine was so good at reading him, and if he didn't manage himself carefully, he'd surely give away the surprise.

Instead, he turned his attention back to the sleeping form beside him: her body still and relaxed as though she hadn't slept in ages, her lips slightly parted, her dark curls forming a tangled, wild halo around her head. A week apart from her had seemed manageable when they had planned it, when it was distant and only a matter of practicality. Her rehearsal schedule gave her precious little time off, and it seemed a waste of that time to spend so much of it driving across the country, but he vastly preferred the drive to flying. So he would come home ahead of her, prepare the house, spend a little time unwinding from the noise and bustle of city life. He'd started to miss her the moment he left their New York apartment, though, and the quiet house felt a little too reminiscent of all the time he'd spent here believing himself to be fated for solitude. Of course Nadir had come by often, but it wasn't the same. The rehearsals that kept Christine so busy would be worth it, though, he reminded himself. Her first lead role in a new musical. She'd be eligible for a Tony. It had only been a year or so since her Broadway debut, but it was never too early for true genius to be recognized, was it?

He was pulled from his thoughts when she stirred, stretching her legs out under the covers and sighing as she slowly opened her eyes. A sleepy smile formed on her lips when she saw him.

"Hey."

"Hey." He leaned over to press a light kiss to her lips. "Go back to sleep."

"Mm. Don't think I can," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "Still on New York time so it feels late."

"You'll be fast asleep before midnight tonight."

"And miss starting Christmas with you? Never." She rolled over to face him fully, looking a little more alert. "It's really good to see you."

His smile softened. "I missed you."

"I missed you too. Let's not do this traveling separately thing again. It was too weird being away from you for that long."

"Oh, don't worry. I will now be attending every single one of your rehearsals and performances to avoid being separated from you for more than a few minutes."

"Maybe we should sew our clothes together so we're physically attached to each other at all times."

Grinning, Erik shifted to kiss her more soundly. He could feel her smile against his lips, familiar and sweet and perfect. "I wouldn't mind that."

By the time they left the house, the air had grown frigid with the promise of snow and thick clouds hung heavily in the sky. Christine's face lit up as the first flakes began to hit the windshield.

"It was so warm when I left New York," she said. "I only needed a jacket. It didn't feel much like Christmas."

Erik couldn't help the small smile that formed as he glanced over at her, looking so contented in the passenger seat. "I'm happy we could come back this year."

"Me too."

When they arrived at the house, they were met with the usual hallmarks of Christmas with the Girys—a warm, cozy home, delicious scents drifting from the kitchen, carols playing quietly in the background. Meg greeted them at the door, wrapping them each in an enthusiastic hug, followed by a warm embrace from Mrs. Giry. Erik was never quite sure when all of this—the familial affection, the time spent with others—had really started to become comfortable. He supposed it had crept up on him, so slowly that he had hardly noticed until one day he found himself accepting these greetings so naturally that he could almost forget how long he'd gone without this kind of familiarity. It was all down to Christine, he knew. Her softness was rubbing off on him; he'd all but lost his edge, at least when it came to a handful of people. He couldn't find it in himself to regret that.

The bulk of the morning was spent in the kitchen, as was often the case when it came to holidays with the Girys. There was always something in the oven that Mrs. Giry wanted to watch and at least two dishes that she was in the process of making, usually much more complex than was necessary for a small family dinner. But the kitchen was warm and cheerful and no one had any complaints about gathering there, although all the talk and laughter did tend to slow Mrs. Giry's progress on the food.

They had been there for a couple of hours when Mrs. Giry announced that she'd forgotten some essential ingredient—a situation that Erik immediately found suspect, as the woman was nothing if not unfailingly organized. His suspicions were furthered when Meg immediately found an excuse not to be the one to go to the store and Christine good-naturedly volunteered. She was thanked profusely and was promptly rushed out the door.

A moment after the door shut, Meg turned and gave Erik a conspiratorial smile. "Do you have it?"

Erik couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he dug into his pocket for the small velvet box, excitement and embarrassment and hopefulness rushing through him. He held out the box for Meg, and she took it eagerly, Mrs. Giry coming to stand with her as she opened it. The ring that glistened inside was simple and elegant, and it drew a small, delighted gasp from Meg.

"So tonight's the night?" Mrs. Giry said, and Erik nodded.

"Erik, this is stunning," Meg said, gingerly handing the ring back to him. "Christine will love it."

"I hope so."

"You know she's going to say yes, right?" she pressed, and Erik felt his face heat at the thought.

"I suppose she's given me no reason to expect otherwise." Despite the ever-present part of his mind that still insisted Christine couldn't possibly want to be with him, he could at least say that much. Only a few years ago, he never would have thought it would be possible for anyone to have feelings for him that even bordered on romantic. And yet here he was, happily living with the love of his life. He got to hold her when she cuddled up to him as she slept and witness her genuine delight at seeing him in the morning. He got to see how her tired smile warmed when she came home to him after a long day of rehearsals or a two-show day. Ever since the move to New York, they had always talked like there was no question that they would be spending their lives together. At this point, even he, as doubtful as he so often was, had to admit that it was unlikely she didn't truly want to be with him. This didn't entirely stop him from doubting himself now, but it at least helped.

"The real question," Meg went on, drawing his focus back to the present, "is are you prepared to have me as a sister-in-law?"

"I don't know that anyone could be prepared for that," he replied, and she laughed. After a moment of hesitation, Erik continued. "I do want you both to know, though, that I… appreciate how welcoming you've always been. It's certainly very generous of you."

"Erik, we're more than happy to have you in the family," Mrs. Giry said, her voice warm but firm, leaving no room for argument.

"Honestly," Meg added. "We like having you around. And we're so happy for you and Christine."

Erik's lips twitched. "Thank you," he said softly. He wanted to say more, but those words were all that would come to him; for a moment, that gratitude was all he felt.

By the time Christine returned, normal activity had resumed and there was no hint of the conversation that had happened in her absence except for the discreet addition of a small box under the Christmas tree.

* * *

As happy as Christine was to be home spending the day with Mrs. Giry and Meg—she'd been looking forward to this for weeks, frequently reminding herself of the coming reward during long, difficult rehearsal days and that lonely week without Erik—she had to admit that her favorite part of the holiday was still the few stolen minutes that she and Erik would have that night. Seeing him when she'd gotten home the night before had felt like the first breath she'd taken since they'd been apart. Maybe it was a little silly to be so eager to have more time with him. They were, after all, here to visit the Girys and Nadir. Then they would both return to New York, to their comfortable little apartment, and they'd go back to having every day together. She would have plenty of time to be alone with him then. Still, she couldn't help but look forward to the moments they'd have together that night.

Just as Erik had predicted, she found her eyes growing heavy much earlier in the evening than she would have liked, the time change and the exhaustion of the last few weeks weighing on her. Mid-way through rehearsals for the new show like this, it was sometimes hard to see how she could go on putting everything she had into the grueling days when she was already more drained than she had ever been before. It would be worth it, she knew. The show, when it all came together, would be amazing, and she was getting to work with some incredible people. Even so, she wished it didn't leave her so tired for this precious time with her family. When everyone went to bed, Erik told her to go to sleep, promising to wake her up when it was time. She didn't need more persuasion than that and happily spent an hour dozing in his arms, her face pressed into the soft fabric of his pajama shirt so hard that it left lines on her skin when she pulled away. He smiled and ran a thumb over her marked cheek.

"Are you ready to go downstairs?"

She nodded, rubbing her eyes and feeling a little more alert. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it."

Erik pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before he stood, pulling her to her feet with him. They silently made their way downstairs through the quiet, still house, and Christine rushed across the dark living room to turn on the tree lights. When she turned around she could see him watching her with a small smile, the glow of the colored lights glinting off the smooth surface of the mask. That mask was a rare sight these days, as he never wore it when it was only the two of them. She still harbored the hope that someday he might discard it altogether, might finally feel comfortable enough not to need it, at least with family and friends. But there was no one else right now, only the two of them, and as she closed the short distance between them she reached up to pull the mask away. He made no protest and happily leaned into her embrace when she lifted her face up to his and kissed him.

They sat down in front of the tree without a word and remained quiet for a few minutes, Christine sitting with her arm looped with his and her head on his shoulder. Sitting here with Erik, with their loved ones all so close and their surroundings familiar and comfortable, she breathed a sigh of relief, letting the comfort of it all settle over her. She'd been thrilled when she'd learned there would be a short break in rehearsals over the holiday—only a few days, but long enough that she and Erik could come home. They hadn't had that same luxury last year, and while she had known that this would be a possibility when they moved away, the knowledge hadn't stopped a few homesick tears from escaping when the realization that she couldn't go home for Christmas had hit. Erik had comforted her and had encouraged her to make the apartment as cozy and homey as she could, and although her homesickness had not faded as the holiday drew closer, it was at least balanced by her gratitude for Erik. And then on Christmas Eve she'd returned from the show she'd been in at the time to find Meg in the apartment—her presence there a Christmas gift from Erik. Christine had cried and hugged them both close and been filled with such a bittersweet happiness that it had overwhelmed her. She'd told Erik later that it was the best gift anyone had ever given her, and it had struck her, not for the first time, how ridiculously lucky she was to have him.

As happy as she was to be home this year, this was the most important part—the two of them enjoying this quiet moment together.

"I have something for you." Erik's voice was soft, and she could hear his smile.

"You already gave me a gift." Of course she had learned by now that there was no use in scolding him. If he wanted to spoil her, there was no stopping him, and he was never repentant. Besides, it was hard to actually be upset by too many sweet gestures.

"You don't have to accept it if you don't want to," he told her, and she thought she heard a slight tremor in his voice.

Sitting up so she could look at him properly, she searched his face for some clue about what he had to give her and was surprised to find a flicker of nerves in his small smile. He leaned forward, then, pulling a small box that she hadn't noticed before out from under the tree. It was wrapped neatly in festive paper, and he didn't hand it to her immediately; instead he turned it over gently in his hands, his fingers brushing over it anxiously. She looked up again as a possibility occurred to her, and her heart began to beat faster with a hopefulness that she did not quite want to fully give herself over to but that she also didn't want to deny.

There had long been a kind of assumption between them that, whatever else the future held, they would be together. Erik's continued presence in her life wasn't just unquestioned; it was something she depended on. She'd never tried to imagine a life without him because that was the absolute last thing she wanted. She supposed that the steadfastness of that feeling had made any kind of formal commitment seem a bit redundant, or at least not an urgent need, but she certainly wasn't opposed to the idea of . . . making things official. Far from it.

The subject had come up once, a few months ago. There had been about half a day when Christine had thought she might be pregnant, and while it had turned out to be a false alarm (much to both her relief and Erik's) it had turned their thoughts to the future. Erik had cautiously asked if she saw them always being together, and she had answered without hesitation that she did—she truly couldn't imagine any other possibility. Then he had asked her, with even more caution than before, if she wanted to get married. Her stomach had done an excited flip, and she'd asked playfully if this was a proposal, and he'd returned her playful smile, apparently seeing something in her reaction that pleased him, and replied that she would know when it was a proposal. Warmth had flooded through her at the word _when_, and she'd told him that she would happily say yes to a proposal.

The conversation had faded to the back of her mind over the months, but it returned to her clearly now as she looked between his slightly timid expression and the small box in his hands. An official marriage might not be _the_ most important measure of their love, but the idea of pledging their lives to each other, of having some kind of greater recognition of their commitment, was certainly still a romantic one. She could feel the anticipation swelling in her chest as he began to speak again, his voice soft and warm with a faint tremble to it.

"Christine, I love you with everything that I am, more than I can ever express. I could devote every moment of the rest of my life to showing you just how much I love you, and I still wouldn't be able to fully convey it. But I can't think of a single way that I would rather spend my life, if you'll let me."

A smile had spread across her face, the small, hopeful one growing broader and warmer as her anticipation was tempered by something deeper. God, she loved him. She loved him so much that she sometimes wondered how she could contain it, how she could do anything but shout in the street about how much she loved him. She nodded at Erik, wanting to tell him this but not able to find her voice just now, but by the softening of his expression, she knew he understood.

He gave the box to her gingerly without another word, and she tore away the wrapping paper to reveal a small velvet ring box. Her hands trembled as she opened it, and her breath caught and tears sprung to her eyes at the sight of the ring nestled inside. She wanted to laugh and cry and fling her arms around Erik and hold him until he knew just how happy she was right now. When she looked up at him again, a smile was flickering on his lips, shy and hopeful. It seemed to take him a moment to form the words he was looking for.

"Christine, will you marry me?"

Christine was nodding as soon as he'd started the question. "Yes," she said softly, her voice catching as her smile widened even more. She couldn't smile widely enough. "Yes, yes, Erik, yes, of course."

He was still for a second, as if he wanted to make sure he had understood her correctly. Then a smile began to spread across his face, his features lighting up brighter than she had ever seen before, and she was throwing her arms around him, filled with such breathless joy that she couldn't speak. His arms wrapped around her and he held her tightly, and then his lips found hers, eager and sweet. She took his face in her hands as she returned the kiss and she could feel his breath catch, and then his arms tightened around her and there was a dampness on her cheeks and she wasn't sure if it was Erik's tears or her own. This was it—this was the rest of their lives: sleepy early-morning kisses, music-filled days, the profound feeling of comfort and security in the knowledge that the person she loved most would always be with her. Whatever else came, they would have each other. And at moments like this, Christine was certain that he was all she would ever need.


End file.
